The Dull Yellow Letter
by This Girl Called Beka
Summary: Just a little parody I wrote for English class... The original work being poked fun at is "The Scarlet Letter" by Hawthorn. Enjoy!


**The Dull Yellow Letter**  
_A Parody Based on Hawthorn's _The Scarlet Letter_, By Pocket Full of Stardust_

_DISCLAIMER: the original story is obviously not mine. This is just a cute little parody!_  
  
  
The grass plot before the jail, on a certain autumn morning not more than two hours ago, was occupied by a very large number of the inhabitants of Gossip, all of their eyes intently locked on the latched screen door.  
  
It was an event to be noted, on the autumn morning when our story begins its course, that the students of the local high school, of which there were many in the crowd, appeared to hold a peculiar interest in whatever disciplinary action might be expected to ensue. Many of them held an average grade point, but there were some among them who secretly possessed Physics grades below the average, and they held particular interest in the case about to unfold.  
  
"Good students," said a hard-featured, well-known senior, "I'll share my thoughts with thee. It would be greatly beneficial to the public, if we students, being of low maturity and of an age somewhat less than adulthood, should have the handling of such idiots as this Knoe Little. What do you think, Gossipians? If the fool stood up for judgment before us twenty, that are now huddled together, would he come off with such a sentence as the Council Members have awarded? I think not!"  
  
"People say," added another, "that the Council President, Cindy Beth, takes it very grievously that such a scandal has come upon Knoe Little."  
  
"The Council Members are grade-fearing students, but overly merciful—that is a truth," added a third. "At the least, they should have branded it upon his brow. Knoe Little would have winced at that, I'm sure. But little will he care what they put on the pocket of his shirt! He could cover it and so walk the streets as brave as ever!"   
  
"But," interrupted the star-player of the basketball team, "let him cover the mark as he will, the worst of it will remain in his heart."  
  
The door of the jail was flung open, and in that moment, a dark, swift shadow spread over the land, clouding the autumn sky. And following in its raging wake came the enforcer, waddling along, his burnished sword at his side. Stretching forth the sword in his left hand, he laid his right hand upon the shoulder of a young man, whom he drew forward roughly; until, on the threshold, the boy repelled him, by an action of one unwilling to be pushed, and stumbled forward with an odd sense of dignity.   
  
He was led to the picnic table, and was forced to climb to its top. He stood there, blinking blankly at the crowd. On the pocket of his blue Hawaiian shirt, in dull yellow construction paper, its edges ragged and damp, splotched with an odd hue of blue, appeared the letter N. It was so artistically done, and with such style, that its bitten and chewed edges gave it all the effect of a last and fitting decoration to the apparel which he wore.  
  
The young man was tall, with an unmovable build. He had dark, spiked hair, and black eyes. And never before had Knoe Little appeared more rock-like than as he issued from the prison. Those who had known him before expected him to be dulled, but were astonished to find his strength magnified. But the point that drew all eyes and, as it were, transfigured the wearer—so that both students and teachers, who had been familiarly acquainted with Knoe Little, were then impressed, as if they saw him for the first time—was that DULL YELLOW LETTER, so finely ripped and chewed from construction paper, taped to his shirt.  
  
"He has good skill at his teeth, that's certain," remarked one of the students; "but did ever anyone, before this fool, contrive such a way to show it! Why, Gossipians, he has begun to laugh in the faces of the Council Members, and made pride of what they, our honored students, meant for punishment!"  
  
"It would be well," muttered the fiercest, yet perhaps the brightest, of the students, "if we replaced the dull yellow letter with one of sickly embroidery I'd bestow to make a fitter one!"  
  
"Peace," cried the basketball player; "do not let him hear you! Not a bite in that paper letter, but he has bitten from his heart."  
  
And after ten hours of unrelenting humiliation, Knoe Little was allowed to climb down from his perch, and managed to fall into a heap upon the ground, narrowly avoiding a painful meeting with the wild rosebush where it had long since taken root at the foot of the jail. Knoe lifted his eyes to its single flower, wretched and yet somehow beautiful as it clung to the mother plant, its petals wilting and falling only to meet again in a puddle on the ground. There passed between the young man and the rosebush a strange sympathy toward the other, although neither was able to comprehend the message.  
  
It was with this lack of understanding that Know Little rose to his full height, and with as much dignity as he could still grasp, strode into the schoolyard, and stared, spellbound, at the slick, polished windows. The other students had long since returned to their classes, and the halls were empty, but still he gazed at the glass. There, in that clear, glossy glass, was a perfect reflection—a reflection only of the dull yellow letter.

Finis.


End file.
